


In the Greenhouse

by iulia_linnea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iulia_linnea/pseuds/iulia_linnea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no delicate flowers in the greenhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Greenhouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alisanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/gifts).



> Written on 22 April 2012 in response to [alisanne](http://alisanne.livejournal.com/profile)'s prompt of _Neville/Pansy: greenhouse_.

"Oh, look, it's _you_ ," Neville said rudely, as he happened upon Parkinson in the greenhouse. 

"Eighth Year" hadn't been easy for Parkinson, and rightly so, but even though Neville had as much reason to dislike her as anyone, he was getting tired of seeing her looking so crushed. Neville didn't like seeing any girl cry, and Parkinson wasn't a delicate flower. 

_It's past time someone reminded her of that_ , he thought, as Parkinson ignored him. Striding forward, he seized her by the shoulders and pulled her up into a rough embrace.

He was pleased when Parkinson tried to bite him, and excited when, after only a moment's struggle, she surrendered to his kiss. 

"Right," he said, pulling away from her once the need to breathe became too much, "you have to stop crying all the time. No one's going to feel sorry for you, Parkinson. You're a dreadful bitch."

"H—how can you _say_ that?" she demanded. "You just _kissed_ me."

"Yeah, but only to bring you to your senses," Neville replied, running a hand through his hair. "It's bad enough having to watch you cringing around the castle without also having to see you cry. I don't like you, Parkinson." 

"Really?" Parkinson asked, sliding a hand into his trousers and grabbing his prick. 

"Really, I . . . I don't like you at all," Neville replied, shuddering as she sped her strokes.

Parkinson grinned. "Not. At. All?"

" _Fuck_."

Leaning up, Parkinson whispered against Neville's mouth, "We could have done, you know, if you didn't think I was such a dreadful bitch." 

With that, she abruptly released him and strode—shoulders back and head held high—away, leaving Neville shaking with frustration.

"That was nice of you, Neville."

"Luna! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, reaching down to hide the taut placket of his trousers with both hands.

Stepping out from behind some ferns, she replied, "Well, I was just trying to figure out how to make Pansy stop crying, but I see you worked that out well enough." She moved to stand before him. "Would you like some help with that? One good turn deserves another, after all."

Flushing, Neville nodded, gasping as Luna sank to her knees and undid his trousers—and cramming a fist into his mouth as she sucked his prick into hers.

"That's . . . oh, yeah, that's . . . you're _amazing_ , Luna." _And Eighth Year is turning out to be the best one, yet_.


End file.
